


Swimmin'

by BlazeRiddle



Series: CatLock [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7126981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazeRiddle/pseuds/BlazeRiddle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After careful planning, Sherlock, John and their client go after a psychopathic murderer.</p><p>((Will make much more sense if you read the rest of the series))</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swimmin'

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah.... sorry for the year delay. Someone commented on Chinese food and Sunlight and I realised I never finished the story, so here it is!

The next night came in a flurry of activity. The mysterious woman, _Phoenix_ , had returned around eight in the morning with her own laptop and an extra phone. She'd spent the rest of the day calling with people named _Swan_ and _Sy_ and _Hydra_ and speaking in code, and the whole day felt like a Bond-film. At the end of the day, John felt very, very confused, and the gun Sherlock pressed into his palm just before the three of them bundled into a black Mercedes was a real comfort. He knew Sherlock was armed, too, but he hadn't seen Phoenix pack as much as a butter knife. She seemed to know what she was doing, though, so he didn't worry too much.

They arrived at the hideout, a small, mostly empty apartment that looked out over the Tiger's flat, and set up camp near the windows. Sherlock found two chairs, but Phoenix curled up on the windowsill, staring at the house on the other side of the street.

"And now we wait."

Sherlock sighed loudly. "Waiting is _boring_."

"Waiting is necessary." She sat completely still in the window, her entire body still and thrumming with energy like a bowstring. "If we're too early, he might escape."

Sherlock groaned. "If we wait too long, he'll be gone." He said. "Can't we just storm the place?"

"No." She twitched a little. "We're _not_ going to storm into the house of a psychopathic demon mutant killer. That is... one of the worse suggestions people have made. "

Sherlock huffed.

"And people suggested I dye my hair pink." She offered the view of half her smirk and John managed a chuckle, imagining the stern, serious woman with pink hair.

"That would've been brilliant." He giggled. She smiled along.

"A bit impractical with all the nightly hide and seek I do." She smiled, her face relaxing into something more open, less serious. "But I wonder if it would matter. People look right over me, anyway." She suddenly tensed. "We've got movement."

John and Sherlock moved closer to the windows. The Tiger's door opened and a shady figure came out. He was big, over two meters tall, and very broad.

"Is that him?"

"Yeah." She put her phone to her ear and opened the window. "Target is on the move. In pursuit." She dropped the phone, the sounds of Swan's spluttering still audible, and swung her legs out of the window. "Go around the back." She ordered. "He'll go through alleys, we can take him by surprise."

"Right." The two were already at the door when John turned. "Wait, what about-"

There was a dull, almost-silent thud as she landed down below. Sherlock grabbed his wrist and pulled him downstairs, changing on the way down. "She'll be fine." He whispered. "Come on!"

They made it downstairs and snuck out the back, to the alley between the houses. As they moved forward, John could hear the heavy thudding footsteps of a heavy man wearing heavy army boots. They came closer and closer, and then they turned and entered the alley they were in. Sherlock melted into the shadows and pulled John in with him, hand closing over his hand to prevent any sound from coming out. They stood there, in the darkness, back to front, as the Tiger passed by. John didn't dare to breathe, afraid that every sound could give them away. His hand was resting calmly on the handle of his gun.

He swallowed.

The Tiger turned. "Who's there?"

" _Shit._ " Sherlock breathed, stepping forward and pushing John along. Aside from his little outburst, he seemed perfectly calm. "Sebastian Moran." His ear flicked. "You're under arrest."

The Tiger chuckled. "No I'm not." He broadened his stance a bit, showing off a set of dangerous fangs. "Step out of my way, _kitty_. Or I might just have to hurt you."

John drew his gun. "No, you won't." He growled, aiming for the man's head. "You _will_ come with us."

The man chuckled, unimpressed. "You _humans_ are all so _cute_." He sneered. "You think you can harm us with your puny _weapons_ and your _bravery_ , but I could rip you apart before you can pull the trigger. You are worthless against me."

John faltered. "You underestimate me." He growled, tightening his grip.

Sherlock glanced at him, nervous. "John-"

The Tiger laughed. "Oh." He chuckled. "John Watson, the tiny doctor with a vengeance." He smirked meanly. "The boys back in the desert have many stories about you."

John's face darkened. "All good, I hope?" His jaw was set and Sherlock could feel the controlled rage flow off of him in waves.

"Oh, yes." The Tiger growled, his hands growing into claws. "And I don't underestimate you _at all_." He lunged, jumping for John's throat, twisting to avoid the shot he'd fired. It hit him in the leg, but the monster ignored it as he grabbed for John's throat. Sherlock was faster, though; he jumped between them, lashing at the Tiger's face and scratching his eye. Moran roared, nearly howled at the unexpected interruption, and staggered back. Glaring at the two, he dragged his paw through the blood and sniffed it. The smell seemed to fuel his anger, and he roared, preparing himself for another attack.

He was knocked back when suddenly, a ball of flames hit him square in the chest, setting his clothes on fire.

His scream was surprisingly human, and his big paws scratched and patted desperately at his chest, putting the fire out. When he did, he looked around confusedly.

"I'd rather you not attack the doctor again." A dangerously even voice spoke from the mouth of the alley. There, barely visible in the shadows, the only points of reference two glowing eyes and a wisp of smoke coming from her hand, was Phoenix. "He's the only one who would treat your wounds." She stepped forward, showing her face, and the image seemed to slap the wind out of the Tiger.

"Now kindly come with us..." She took another step forward, "Or _run_."

Sebastian bolted.

John sighed. "Well, that was to be expected."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Come on!!" He set off after the man at top speed, John at his heels, and soon, Phoenix caught up to them. They raced through the streets, barely keeping up with the monster, who was now rushing on four legs. Sherlock managed to catch up to him, running aside from him at a safe distance as they reached the waters of the river Themes weaving its way through the city.

"The water!!" Phoenix shouted. Immediately, Sherlock swerved to the right, into the man, slamming him off his tracks and in the direction of the water. Phoenix lunged, her jump surprisingly powerful, and tackled him over the edge. Sherlock followed right after, his momentum plummeting him into the dark waters. John came to a stop at the edge of the water for just a second until a realisation hit him:

Sherlock wasn't a swimmer.

He jumped into the water searching in the dark for the touch of a Belstaff coat, or the feeling of dark brown curls.

Long, strong fingers grabbed his wrist. For a moment, his heart stopped, but then he recognised the violinist's fingers, and he started pulling up, up. Seconds later, they broke the surface of the water, spluttering. Sherlock was clinging to the doctor, barely buoyant and spluttering as he kicked to stay up.

John spit out some water. "You okay?"

Sherlock coughed, his ears drooping flat against his head. "Cats are not made for swimming." He spluttered, sounding sad. John chuckled.

"Could one of you twats _help me_?" A strained voice asked. As John carefully turned, he spotted the woman, swimming on her back and keeping a very unconscious Sebastian Moran afloat above her. "This man is about as heavy as he looks."

As John was making his careful way over to her, the sounds of car engines and screeching tires sounded through the night. Sherlock panicked and tried to dive under, but a simple _wait_ from Phoenix stilled him.

"Black Jaguars." She explained. She started swimming to the quay, and as she did, hands appeared from over the edge to haul them up. Someone easily hauled the Tiger out of the murky water, then helped Sherlock out while Phoenix managed to climb out by herself. When John got on solid land himself, he could see who'd saved them: an extremely tall boyish man with auburn curls framing his face and what seemed like small scales near his eyes. He was smirking broadly.

"Good to see you're still alive, boss." He slammed Phoenix on the back. "Wonder how long it'll last, though..." He shot a meaningful glance at one of the Jaguar.

Phoenix sighed. "And I was hoping it was just you."

The Jaguar opened, and a young man, dressed in a black suit, stepped out. He had raven black hair, straight and combed back, pale skin, and high cheekbones in an handsome face. If John didn't know any better, he'd wonder if he was Sherlock's brother. The man strode over to them, his face impassive.

"I will _murder_ you if you do that again." He said, his clipped tone of Queen's English making the statement even more threatening. "Do you know what floats around in there? You could've died!"

She shrugged, mostly unbothered. "Got the killer, though."

He glared at her. "Come on, home." He gestured to the car. She nodded.

"Give me a second to wrap things up."

He nodded, stepping bed to watch over the still unconscious Tiger. Phoenix turned to John and Sherlock.

"I believe this is goodbye." She smiled at them. "It was a pleasure working with you."

"Yes." Sherlock nodded. "Perhaps until another time. There might be advantages to the Community."

She looked back at the two men bickering over the Tiger. "Yeah, it's good to have people to look after you." She glanced at John, then looked back at Sherlock. "Maybe even a Leashkeeper, someone to hold you back when you tend to go too far. Someone who cares about you, who you care about. Enough to listen to, anyway. Shouldn't be too hard to find one." There was a sharp whistle from the car and she rolled her eyes. "That's my sign." She turned and moved to the car, but turned one more time.

"The best of luck, Mr Holmes and Doctor Watson." She smiled. "Until we meet again, I'm sure."

As the car pulled away, they were left with the curly-haired man hoisting the body in the trunk of the car and silence.

"Well." John swallowed, not looking at his friend. "That was something."

"Yes." Cautiously, Sherlock's long fingers reached out and tangled themselves with John's. "Thank you." He managed. "For... that thing. Jumping in."

John squeezed his hand, smiling brightly. "Yeah. Always."

He had a feeling something good would rise from the ashes of this case...

**Author's Note:**

> So that's the end of it! I hoped you liked it!  
> For any comments or questions or prompts or ideas, feel free to leave a comment, go to my [Tumblr askbox](http://blazeriddle.tumblr.com/ask) or swish by my [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/blazeriddle) to leave a message!


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